


Under Moon and Starlight

by clownprinceoflies



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Existential Crisis, Island Mode (Dangan Ronpa), Late Night Conversations, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, a dash of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-21
Packaged: 2020-09-23 12:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20339857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clownprinceoflies/pseuds/clownprinceoflies
Summary: The moon bathes them in blue-silver light, the stars shine spotlights down upon them, and Nagito wishes the night would never end.





	Under Moon and Starlight

**Author's Note:**

> i originally wrote this for the komahina secret exchange 2019 like four months ago buuuuut never actually uploaded it. so have it now! better late than never

His world, he supposes, has always been small. But at the same time, it’s always been too big. Too many things he could do at the drop of a hat, too many things he had complete control over. And yet, at the same time, he couldn’t do anything, his life itself completely in the hands of someone, _ something _ he’d never know.

This contradictory world of his was one he traversed alone. The world swallowed up and shredded everything around him. The second something got close it was swept away, the moment someone made contact they were torn apart, limb from limb. The solution was to simply live without any relationships of any sort and without any possessions, but doesn’t that go against human desire? Was it not human nature to seek out others, to gather objects in order to make oneself comfortable? If he rejects human desire, human _ nature,_ can he truly consider himself human? If not, then what _ was _ he?

It strikes him inexplicably that his world doesn’t matter here. Perhaps it never mattered in the first place. Perhaps nothing ever mattered, and human nature made him believe things did. Wasn’t it natural to hold some things dear to you, to hold them close to his heart and make them matter? If that was the case, then he supposes he truly is human. 

The pale moon - a constant, unwavering thing, near haunting in it’s unyielding presence in every hour - blinks at him from deep blue sky. Stars, too, twinkle and shimmer from the same abyss, bright and blinding unlike the ones he’d see in Tokyo. The closest he’d seen to these were in _ Puerto Baquerizo Moreno_, where the lights and the sounds and the very ground he stood on were different yet the sky was the same, simply less clouded by the glare of extensive modern technology. Here, on Jabberwock Island, it was the same. No light pollution or smog obscured the sky, the only thing coming close being a stray puff of white cloud every now and then.

The wind whispers harsh nothings as it brushes his skin and send shivers down his body. Distantly he hears as the waves of the beach pick up in time, begin crashing down upon the white sand in quicker succession and with more force. The filtered pool water lapping at his ankles makes him ever colder, surface near mirroresque and clear turquoise that looks silver in the moonlight. He can feel the way the skin on his feet has wrinkled up, old and unneeded evolutionary traits kicking into high gear as he submerges his feet for what feels like a long time. It dawns on him that time, too, doesn’t really matter.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been out here. He remembers, vaguely, hearing Usami’s nighttime announcement - ten o’clock exact, never a single second early or late - and preparing himself for the night, wishing each of his fellow students a “Goodnight” and “Have sweet dreams.” He remembers laying in his blush queen sized bed, staring at the wall in abstract boredom for hours as sleep refused to take him (as it often did, ever since he was a child). Remembers getting himself out of the blankets and dressing and leaving his cottage hotel room before finding himself by the pool. It’s there he lays, sprawled out on hard wood and concrete, legs dipped up to the ankle into the chlorine cleaned water. He thinks he’s been here for a while, laying unmoving and thinking about everything and nothing at once.

Wind dies down. Ocean waves calm and go back to gentle rocking, lapping against the beach in gentle beats that match the tempo of his own heart: _ ba-dum, ba-dum, thump, thump _.The sound fills and drowns his ears - or maybe it’s the sound of his own blood bumping? He doesn’t know, nor does he really care in that moment. The stars twinkle. The moon stares. He tries counting the stars for a fleeting moment before giving up after counting two hundred thirty-seven.

The constant anxiety he feels is nonexistent here. The constant desire to be prepared for anything and everything, the desire to be everywhere and nowhere at once has evaporated into the very air. It feels just a bit unnerving to be relaxed after it all, but his limbs are too heavy and his body is too comfortable for him to care or do anything about it.

The wind picks up again, bringing with it the scent of tropical flowers and fruits none of which he can name. It tousles and stirs up his hair, pale white strands tickling the skin of his face and neck. The waves rise once more, his heart keeping up with it’s rhythm: _ ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum, thump thump thump. _

“What are you doing?”

The sounds cuts through the sound of the waves and steals the very breath from his lungs. Tan and hazel and brunette fill his vision, a pale olive green tie dangles limply above his nose. A face full of characteristic tired annoyance, with hints of fondness seeping into the corners of his mouth and in his eyes. Hinata leans over him, covering the moon and taking its place as the midnight sun, white button-up brighter than ever, the pin on the breast pocket glinting in the starlight. Nagito can’t help the small content smile that worms it’s way onto his face. He smiles up at Hinata, too breathless to even consider answering his question. 

Hinata stares back, eyes flickering slightly as if searching for something he’ll never find. The two stare at each other for what’s undoubtedly decades before Hinata concedes and straightens up with the breath of a small sigh and the closing of his eyes. Nagito can feel his smile dropping slightly, expecting the other to leave him alone again. Nagito wouldn’t blame him for doing so, _ couldn’t _blame him, as he’d do the same thing when faced with himself.

Hinata flops down beside him on the deck with a huff and takes Nagito by surprise.

He takes a moment to arrange himself. It’s somewhat endearing, Nagito thinks, how Hinata’s face twists with concentration as he leans himself to the side in order to fold his legs up under him until he’s cross-legged, how he wiggles in place in an effort to move his feet to a position where they won’t go numb. After he’s situated he rests an elbow on one of his thighs, propping up a hand and resting his head in it. Hinata stares at him once more, and Nagito finds himself feeling self-conscious. The smile on his face revives with more force regardless. Hinata quirks an eyebrow at him.

“Well? You gonna answer me or what?”

Nagito feels his smile falter once more, but if Hinata notices how often his expression has been shifting he doesn’t mention it. He decides to answer in the same way he always has when he’s asked an uncomfortable question, ever since the first time he was asked “_What happened on your return flight from San Cristóbal?_” He turns his head to it’s side, his mass of fluffy hair cushioning the weight, and spits the words as carelessly as he can.

“What are _ you _ doing?”

Hinata’s eye twitches slightly, his nose scrunches up for a fleeting moment, an emotion Nagito can’t name without thinking flicking across his face. As quick as it’s there its gone as Hinata schools his face back to his neutral, tired expression. “Making sure you’re not doing something weird.”

Nagito blinks - once, twice - before parotting, “‘Doing something weird?’”

Hinata nods. “Yeah, doing something weird. Y’know,” he makes a vague gesture with his free hand. Nagito just stares, because no, he doesn’t know. After a beat of silence that lasts two seconds too long to be anything but awkward, Hinata continues, “I thought you were gonna try to make something in that old kitchen again.”

“I don’t think I want to try cooking for a while,” Nagito says bitterly, face twisting up at the memory. Usami still refused to let him hold sharp objects, and Hanamura still watches him like a hawk whenever he gets near a stove.

Hinata laughs at his reaction, the sound sweet and airy as it reaches Nagito’s ears. Nagito feels himself smiling again. “But really,” Hinata starts, once the laughter in his throat grows quiet, “What are you doing out so late?” There’s concern edged into the brunette’s voice and it leaks likewise into his eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep,” Nagito answers honestly. There’s no point to lying about it. Not when Hinata could see through it anyway. Not when dark purple stains the pale skin underneath his eyes.

“There’s narcotics in the pharmacy,” Hinata points out, “Why not go and get something from there?” Nagito shrugs as his answer, a somewhat awkward motion when you’re laying with your arms spread wide. Sleeping pills weren’t something he trusted himself around.

“I’m sure they’d help more than just laying out here,” Hinata continues with a roll of his eyes. The other twists his face into a grimace.

“But they taste _ bad _,” he says, drawing out the last word into a whine, coming up with any excuse other than the truth.

“Now you’re just being stubborn,” the brunette scolds as he reaches out to playfully slap at Nagito’s arm. “I’ll shove them down your throat.” Nagito can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him at Hinata’s threat. “I will! I swear,” Hinata defends, slapping at Nagito’s arm again.

“Of course you will, Hinata-kun,” the white haired boy quips, lasting giggles still left on his tongue. “I’m shaking in my boots due to fear of your might!”

“_You’re not even wearing shoes!_”

Nagito wiggles his toes beneath the pool’s surface. His feet may have gone numb due to the cold water, but in that moment he’s the warmest he’s been all night. “Actually, I am,” he says, pulling his face into a serious expression. “They’re just invisible, Tanaka-san put a curse on them.”

Hinata’s face blanks and he stares at the other as though he’s seriously considering the possibility. It twitches after a moment before turning exasperated. “Haha,” he laughs dryly. “So you’re a comedian now, huh?” Nagito sticks his tongue out at him playfully, earning him a true laugh from the brunette.

His own laugh rises and joins Hinata’s in a soft crescendo. The noise mixes together in the cool night air as a song that fills his heart and swallows him whole. The moon bathes them in blue-silver light, the stars shine spotlights down upon them, and Nagito wishes the night would never end.

Their song dies in time, but it isn’t until Hinata’s wiping tears out of his eyes that silence envelopes them. Nagito watches him from the corner of his eye. Watches as Hinata’s breath returns to him, as he stretches his arms out in front of him until his fingertips brush the surface of the pool’s water. He pulls them back after a moment, rests his elbows on his knees and lets his hands hang in the triangle formed by his crossed legs. Hinata gazes at the sky now, eyes flickering in every direction as he looks from one star to the next.

The only word Nagito can think of to describe the sight is “beautiful.”

Hinata is _ beautiful_. The soft shape of his face, slightly sharp at the edges where lingering baby fat are just trimming off, is beautiful. His eyes, serene as they gaze above, hazel and positively _ glowing _ in the moonshine, is beautiful. His hair, short and soft and the shade of freshly made milk chocolate - it’s beautiful. Every inch of him is beautiful, Nagito thinks, from the tips of his toes to that onry piece of hair that refused to settle with the rest.

Oh, he must have been staring, because Hinata looks at him with that embarrassed look of his, a light blush rising and dusting his face. When Nagito flashes him a bright smile, the blush grows darker and he turns his eyes away awkwardly, pulling on his shirt collar like he’s burning up. How _ cute_. It takes a moment for Nagito to realize that Hinata’s speaking.

“Why are you looking at me like that,” he mumbles, looking everywhere except at the white haired boy.

“You’re beautiful,” Nagito answers without thinking. Isn’t it important to let people know what you think of them?

Hinata’s reaction seems to say otherwise. He freezes, his entire body tensing and going rigid, his face flushing. He looks _ mortified_, as if Nagito had just told that bombs all over the island were going to explode by sunrise.

Of _ course _ he said something he shouldn’t have. Of _ course _he fucked up again. Because that’s all he does and that’s all he’ll ever do.

Nagito pushes himself up on his elbows, apologies already on the tip of his tongue, because he _ needs _to rectify the situation, needs everything to be alright. “I apologize if I made you uncomfort-“

“You can’t just say something like that so suddenly,” Hinata cuts him off with a yell, far too loud for the situation, embarrassment sitting high on his cheeks. Was the flush from before not from fear then? “Besides,” he continues, voice dropping into a low mumble that Nagito would surely have missed if he wasn’t paying such close attention, his eyes scrunching closed like he can’t stand to look Nagito in the eyes, “You’re the beautiful one here.”

Nagito can feel the heat rising to his face, can feel the way his pale skin grows pink at the sudden compliment. When was the last time someone said such a thing to him? Had anyone ever? Hinata probably doesn’t mean it anyway. He’s just saying it to deflect the attention off of him. Surely. “Ah…” he trails off, let’s his nervous laughter enter the air, “Hinata-kun is really too kind.”

“_Please _ don’t start with that shit,” Hinata groans with frustration evident in his voice, the embarrassment that was just there slowly leaving him, “I’m not saying it to just be nice. I really… think that.” He rushes his sentence at the end, still avoiding Nagito’s eyes. Which is a good thing, Nagito thinks, because he can’t see the tears forming in his own eyes this way.

It’s overwhelming, really. It’s truly overwhelming to be on this side of a compliment. To be complimented by _ Hinata Hajime _\- it’s almost too much. He’s undeserving of it, unworthy to even be in his presence. 

“Okay,” Hinata says, awkwardness and nerves apparent in his voice as he draws out the word, “You’re crying now, what did I do?” Nagito’s quick to swipe at his eyes with his jacket sleeves, because Hinata _ really _ shouldn’t have to deal with his own inability to take simple praise. 

“Ahah… It’s just-” Nagito tries to give him a reassuring smile as he wipes once more at his cheek- “no one has ever complimented me before. It really took me off guard!” He raises the tone of his voice to one that’s lighter, tacks a bout of breathy laughter at the end. It’s a joke, really, everything to do with him is a _ joke._

Instead of putting Hinata’s concerns to rest, his words seem to only elevate them as a pitying look fills his eyes. “No one? Ever?” When Nagito nods, albeit a bit confusedly, Hinata’s face twists into a deep frown. He’s getting upset? At what? It’s only natural that someone like himself wouldn’t get praise of any kind. So why is Hinata upset?

“I’ll uh. I’ll say it whenever you want then,” he offers, obviously still too awkward to say the words with confidence. 

“Say what?”

“I’ll- I’ll call you pretty. Or beautiful. Or whatever. Whenever you want.” He’s blushing again, and pulling at his shirt collar, eyes darting every direction except towards Nagito. Nagito can feel the blush on his face again, self-doubt invading his mind. Could he really accept such an offer? Could he really allow himself to be so selfish?

“You know what? I’m going to do it anyway,” Hinata’s voice interrupts his thoughts, stern and forcibly confident. “Because I know you’re just going to tell me no.”

“Hinata-kun doesn’t have to do anything that he doesn’t want to do,” Nagito says instead of a full-out protest, because a traitorous part of him yearns to hear the words leave the brunette’s mouth again.

“Yeah? Well, I’m going to do it. Because I want to,” Hinata objects, still refusing to look at the other - Nagito _ really _ wishes he would, he wants those eyes on him. "And I don’t care what you say,” he tacks onto the end like it somehow makes it look like he doesn’t care. He fails miserably.

“Hm…” Nagito hums, already able to feel the teasing words rising in his throat, “Mioda-chan was right. Hinata-kun really is a _ tsundere_.”

“What!?” comes the brunette’s yell, his hand slapping against the pool deck. “I am not! You’re just-” he’s sputtering now, how _endearing _\- “just an asshole!” After a beat of silence, “A pretty asshole!”

The compliment makes him flush, though he laughs at the other’s words regardless. Hinata was fun to tease. Easy to tease, too, his reactions always over the top after he realizes what’s happening. It’s adorable, really.

Hinata pushes himself up from where he was sitting with a huff. “Whatever! I’m going back to bed!” he announces loudly as he turns back towards the rows of cottages nearby.

“‘Back to bed’? You were sleeping in your clothes?” Nagito hadn’t given it much thought earlier, but considering it _ was _ the middle of the night, it is odd for Hinata to be dressed in his regular outfit of button-up and tie and jeans.

“Maybe I _ like _ wearing this to bed!” the brunette counters before shoving an accusing finger in Nagito’s direction. “You’re also wearing your normal clothes, so you can’t say anything!”

“But I didn’t wear them to bed,” Nagito’s points out with a small tilt of his head. Are they arguing about this now? Was this something worth arguing over?

Hinata makes a small noise of frustration, his face still a bright crimson. “Still!” He turns again and this time actually starts stomping away. “You go to bed too! It’s too late at night for you to be awake and doing something crazy!” He calls from over his shoulder as he turns the corner towards his cottage. Nagito hums, neither a promise to do so nor a refusal, and pulls his feet from the water and places them on the pool’s edge. They’re cold, the air making them even more so, and he can barely feel them enough to be able to feel their movements when he wiggles his toes. He’ll probably have to wait a bit before he can walk.

Accepting that fact with an subconscious nod, Nagito turns his head up to the stars again. Without Hinata’s presence, they seem somewhat duller than before, as if the very idea of Hinata Hajime makes the world shine. The moon, too, seems distant and forlorn - a haunting figure watching from out of reach. Everything feels calm, quiet, a perfect image of serenity.

A perfect island vacation with the one you love.

“Oi!”

Nagito feels his neck pop as he snaps to attention. His eyes flick over to the back deck of Hinata’s cottage, where the brunette himself is leaning against the railings. The pink slip of paper in his hand flaps around as he waves it in the air. 

“Hang out with me tomorrow!”

Nagito lets himself blink blankly before allowing his head to tilt to the side. “You want to hang out?” With someone like him? The hand holding the pink ticket falters at his words.

“Um, yeah,” Hinata says, his words unsure and hesitant, “I’d like to. If you want to.” He’s looking away again, like he’s embarrassed. A soft smile fills Nagito’s face at the sight.

“I’d love to go on a date with you, Hinata-kun.”

Hinata’s face erupts into a furious blush as his body tenses up. The ticket crinkles as his grip tightens against the smooth paper. “Don’t call it that!” he protests, his voice cracking halfway through the sentence.

“Huh? Is it not a date?” Nagito questions, wiggling his toes and growing satisfied as the feeling is returning to them. He takes a moment to look for his shoes before shoving his bare feet inside.

“You don’t _ have _ to call it that! We’re just hanging out!” He’s right, technically, but Nagito can’t figure out why it’s such a big deal. Isn’t it easier to just call it a date?

“So it _ is _ a date.” It’s meant to be a question, but it comes out more like a simple statement of fact.

Hinata seems to go through a lapse of internal conflict, emotions appearing and disappearing only to appear again and flicking across his face in rapid succession. After a moment of lapsing silence, he faces settled on a look of exasperation. “Fine. It’s a date. In the _ broadest _ definition of the word.”

A simple hum of response leaves Nagito’s lips as he makes his way past Hinata’s patio. Throwing up a hand in a half-wave and flashing a small smile, he calls out “I can’t wait for our date, Hinata-kun.” And just like that, he leaves and disappears into his own cottage.

He thinks, if his luck allows it, he’d enjoy letting Hinata into his world. In the end, only time will tell.

Perhaps, after all of this, Nagito _will_ sleep well tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> i used italics too much  
come talk to me on my [tumblr](http://aisukofi.tumblr.com) and my [twitter](http://twitter.com/tiddyquirk)!


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